


Dark Schemes, Darker Secrets

by Emachinescat



Series: Hardy Potter [1]
Category: Hardy Boys - Franklin W. Dixon, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Angst, Crossover, Fantasy, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-18
Updated: 2006-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 15:41:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1231981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emachinescat/pseuds/Emachinescat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenton Hardy has a secret. A secret that causes an old man named Albus Dumbledore to appear on the Hardys' doorstep with disturbing news.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own either book series. This is just for entertainment purposes. 
> 
> Enjoy. :)

A lone figure walked through the darkness. He was dressed in long lilac robes, although that detail was hardly visible underneath the blanket of night. His long, silver beard and hair clearly implied that he was quiet old, yet he moved at a quick pace, questions and troubles brewing in his sharp mind.

What did the Dark Lord possibly want this time? Hadn't killing Cedric Digory, nearly murdering Harry Potter, and coming back to power been enough for him? The old man shook his head. Of course not; he shouldn't be so absurd. Lord Voldemort would stop at nothing in his quest for power...even if it mean going to the extremes of traveling to America...to the small town of Bayport...to work against an old and nearly forgotten, yet increasingly powerful foe.

The man sighed. He had really hoped it wouldn't come to this.  _Poor Fenton,_  he thought.  _Everything has been going wonderfully for him and his family. He has stuck fully to his promise, and his boys know nothing of his secret and the never-wavering danger they and their parents have been in for so long. Ah, well,_ he mused,  _I must warn Fenton. Since he has, indeed, kept to the plan, he will know nothing of Voldemort's return. This will be such a shock for him...and Laura._

He had now reached the home he was looking for, the home of Fenton Hardy. The old man knocked lightly on the door. Fenton was a light sleeper. This would wake him. Sure enough, seconds later, Fenton stumbled to the door, pistol in hand, and asked through the closed door, "Who is it?"

"An old friend."

Fenton dropped the pistol and flung the door open. "Albus!" he stammered, staring open-mouthed at the old man standing before him. "It's been a long time." He shook hands heartily with the man, ushering him inside, but instantly became somber once more. "Why are you here?" he inquired. "What's wrong?"

At that moment, Laura entered the living room and started at seeing the robed figure there. Quickly, she regained her composure and exclaimed, "Albus Dumbledore! What brings you here from London int he middle of the night? There's trouble, isn't there?"

Heaving a great, troubled sigh, Dumbledore said, "More than you can imagine. Laura, Fenton, I have some troubling news."

* * *

Fenton's eldest son, Frank Hardy, was just like his father in many ways. He had the same adventurous spirit, the same logical zeal...and he, as well, was a light sleeper. When he woke up to a soft knock on the downstairs door, his natural inquisitive nature kicked into gear. Who could be calling at three in the morning? He heard his father moving cautiously down the hall and the creaking of the stairs as he descended. What could be going on?

Frank bounded silently from bed and ran into his brother's adjoining room. He grinned slightly as he saw his seventeen-year-old brother sleeping deeply. Joe, like Fenton and Frank, was naturally curious and had wonderful detective skills. In fact, Fenton Hardy, an internationally famous detective, had let his boys help on many perilous cases, and the boys proved to be a great team. However, they couldn't be more different.

Frank, at eighteen, was dark haired and leaner than his blonde, muscular brother. Joe was rash, while Frank thought things through. Frank shook his head. And Joe could sleep through a tornado.

Frank rushed to his brother's bed and punched him lightly in the arm. Joe grunted and rolled over. Desperate, Frank rushed to the bathroom which joined his room to Joe's, and filled a small cup with ice-cold water. Then he ran back to Joe and poured the freezing liquid onto his disheveled blonde locks.

Joe sat up instantly, sputtering and coughing. "What's the big idea?" he hissed, casting an annoyed glance Frank's direction.

"Someone just knocked on the door and Dad went downstairs," Frank whispered excitedly. "He hasn't come back yet, but I think I just heard Mom go down. Maybe we should check and see if everything is alright."

Joe was up instantly. "Lead the way."

* * *

Back downstairs, Fenton, Laura, and Dumbledore had retreated to the Fenton's office, where they could talk in peace. "Now," said Dumbledore, "I might as well begin at the beginning."

* * *

As Frank and Joe crept downstairs, they heard low voices coming from their father's office.

"This way," mouthed Frank, urging Joe forward.

Grinning, Joe sprang ahead silently and swiftly, and the boys each took a position on either side of the door. The conversation they heard inside was very low, and they could only hear a few snatches of it.

"...begin from the beginning," the boys heard and unknown voice say. The same voice continued wearily, "You remember, Fenton, Laura...sixteen years ago...Lily and James...murdered...and Harry lived."

The boys glanced at each other, and though each realized they shouldn't be eavesdropping, they couldn't seem to get a grip on their curiosity. They then each moved a few inches forward, as close as they dared to the door, and the voices became more distinct as they heard Fenton say, "Yes, of course, Albus. Horrible day for us all."

"Well..." the stranger's voice grew lower, and once more, though they strained their ears, the boys were only able to distinguish bits and pieces of what was being said. "...two years ago...the tournament...last task...he came back."

At the last phrase the unknown caller said, Frank and Joe heard their parents' audible gasps from behind the closed door.

"You're sure?" Fenton inquired apprehensively

The brothers exchanged bewildered glances.

"Positive. Harry confirmed..." his voice dropped again. "We found out...month ago...he still remembers...he wants to use you...power...he lives for it...stop at nothing.."

The voices were audible no longer. Frank and Joe, completely perplexed, were about to turn back when they suddenly heard their names.

"And Frank and Joe?" their father said. "Will they be safe?"

They heard a sigh from the office as they exchanged worried glances. This seemed to be more serious than they had thought. "You know, Fenton, he'll go to any measures to get to you. It is very likely he knows about your sons...we'll go to any means necessary..."

Everything fell silent once more. Then Laura spoke up. "The boys-" she began, voice cracking. She paused, then continued. "The boys...they know nothing of this, Dumbledore...and as far as we know, they haven't got any...how can we protect them? You saw what he did to Lily and James! To the Longbottoms! To Harry! Albus, he can kill instantly! He can control people's every movement! He can torture effortlessly beyond human endurance..." Her voice faded as Frank and Joe exchanged fearful glances.

"Laura," came the strange voice once more. "As long as you and Fenton can help us...along with our other allies...and after what...Trelawny said...it'll be okay." His tone seemed to brighten as he said, "So...Frank and Joe. Haven't seen them since they were little tykes...Frank was but a year and Joe was a month."

"Frank is eighteen, Joe seventeen," answered Laura promptly.

"And I read in the newspaper that they have followed in their old man's footsteps?"

"Of course," came Fenton's reply. His tone became worried once more. "How can we protect the boys without telling them anything?"

"Oh, you'll have to tell them," the stranger said brightly. "They'll be filled with questions. But not until the right time, which is not tonight."

"Of course not," came Laura's puzzled reply. "How would they even know we are keeping anything from them?"

"Because," the unknown person went on, "they are standing right outside this door, and have heard every word we've said."

Frank and Joe stared at each other in amazement and shock, but didn't have time to dwell on their surprise, however, for at that moment, the office door swung open, revealing the smiling face and twinkling blue eyes of an ancient robed man, the worried expression livid on their mother's fair features, and Fenton's bewildered gaze.

"Why hello, Frank, Joe," the stranger said. "So nice of you to join us."


	2. Chapter 2

Fenton looked at his sons, surprised. "Frank...Joe? What are you doing up?"

"Um..." began Joe, but broke off, not wanting to announce that he and Frank had been eavesdropping.

The old man relieved them of answering, however, when he said, "They were curious, of course." He smiled at the boys, kindness in his blue eyes. "And, as I often tell my students, one in particular, curiosity is not a crime, but it does good to take caution."

"So you're a teacher?" Frank asked. He had already decided to find out all he could about this strange man, the likes of which he had never seen. His wardrobe was odd enough in itself, while his appearance only added to his peculiar appearance. But the thing that really got Frank were his eyes-a deeper blue than even Joe's, more penetrating, and...mysterious.

"Of a sort. Headmaster of a boarding school."

"Frank. Joe." Laura looked at her boys reproachfully. "You know what you did was wrong. Our business is our own and you had no right to pry."

"Oh, it's quite alright," the stranger said, then introduced himself as Albus Dumbledore and suggested that they adjourn to the living room. "Now," he said, when they were seated, Laura and Fenton on the love seat, Frank and Joe in recliners, and Dumbledore rocking contentedly in an old rocking chair that the brothers could have swore hadn't been there before. Upon seeing their bewildered expressions, Dumbledore smiled slightly but said nothing.

"What's going on?" Joe finally asked, unable to bear the silence any longer.

Dumbledore looked at him sadly. "As I'm sure you gathered from your little adventure, some very bad things are going on, the nature and background of which you will have no understanding of."

"Tell us then," Joe persisted, curiosity rousing.

Dumbledore sighed, and exchanged glances with Laura and Fenton. "My, stubborn aren't they?" His eyes twinkled for a moment as he said, "I know many young people of the same nature." Then his blue eyes lost their sparkle. "There are some things," he began, looking pointedly at each sleuth in turn, both of which were listening intently, "that I cannot reveal tonight...mostly because of the danger of speaking here, and of the shock it might cause you...later all will be revealed, but you are not ready to hear some things at the present time." He raised a wrinkled hand at the boys' protests. "Later," he said sternly, then turned and spoke to Laura and Fenton for a moment. "What do you say we let them tell us what they overheard and what they made of it? We can use that as a basis of how much to reveal tonight."

Fenton and Laura nodded as Fenton said, "But I don't want them to hear anything about..."he hesitated, as if trying to find the right way to word it, but Dumbledore cut him off.

"I understand. Of course...it isn't safe for them to know yet."

As Frank and Joe exchanged mystified glances, Dumbledore turned to them and inquired, "What did you hear?"

"Murder." The word was out of Joe's mouth in an instant.

"Yes," Frank agreed, knitting his brow. "Murders a long time ago...someone coming back. Someone needing Dad...and that we are in danger."

"Could be," Joe corrected.

"Of course. Could be in trouble."

"But by who? What is going on?" Joe asked, exasperated.

Instead of answering, Dumbledore asked if that was all they heard.

"No, there was also Mom talking about the person that needed Dad...and us. She said..." Joe broke off, feeling a little nervous now. "She said that he could torture people beyond human endurance, kill in an instant, and force people to do his bidding."

Dumbledore looked grim. "Yes. Well. If that is all you heard-" he paused as the boys both nodded, "-then I shall tell you what I see fit for you to hear now."

He took a breath, then went on. "Fifteen years ago, there was a man...a criminal, if you will, that was merciless...the man we were discussing. He disappeared for a while, but came back two years ago...now...he used to know your father, and needs him to complete his plans. However, your father, as is understandable, is refusing to assist him, despite threats."

"Who is this man? Why can't the police nab him? How could he just 'disappear'?"

"Frank, there is much, much more to this story. So much more, things you never even imagined. But now is not the time. What you need to know is that you and your brother could be in grave danger-for certain reasons, this man cannot get to your father directly, but through you...however, we do not even know if he is aware of your existence."

"If this has been going on for two years, why are you just now coming?" Frank asked.

"Ah, I see you are very observant. You remind me so much of your father... I didn't come until now because I just realized that you and your family could be in danger. Some spies and agents that work for me have discovered that he wants your father more than ever...so much that he may be willing to come here from London.

"Now, that's all I am going to reveal tonight. Further discussion with your parents shall be necessary before more is known. And this time-" he looked sharply at the boys, "-no listening in." His expression softening, he added, "I know you are extremely curious and have every right to be, but until I say it is safe, you'll have to contain it.

"Also, I want you to take extra precautions. Don't go to any unnecessary places, like to the pizza shop-yes, I know about your friend Tony, but maybe he can bring pizza here-arcade, and for the time being, no sleuthing."

Frank and Joe exchanged disappointed looks. "Frank, Joe." Fenton spoke for the first time. "I know this is a huge blow, but it is only for a short time, while we see if you really are in danger and get things sorted out. Trust me, this man is worse than any of the criminals you've encountered so far. Take NO chances. Whatsoever. None." Laura nodded and Dumbledore began speaking again.

"Take these precautions as well as this one: go straight to the required places, such as school, doctor, football practice, and back, not taking any unnecessary stops along the way. Am I understood?"

Although deeply disappointed, each boy consented in turn. "Good," said Dumbledore, brightening considerably. He stood up and walked to the door. "I must leave for London, but will be back very soon. In the meantime, heed what I have said-all of you. Now, farewell. Best of wishes. I will return within the week. Pleasure seeing you Fenton, Laura. Frank and Joe as well."

And with that he was gone.

"Dad," began Joe when he had gone, but Fenton held up a hand.

"Don't try persuading me to tell you anything else. Go to bed." He retreated up the stairs, lost in thought. Laura kissed each boy on the forehead and said, "Go to sleep."

* * *

Back in their own rooms, Frank and Joe each pondered the strange happenings...but nothing made sense. "Ah well..." the thought, "since it's dangerous right now, and he said we shouldn't snoop, we'll wait until he reveals it."

But they woke up the next morning, their curiosity still intact and questions reeling in their sharp minds. They discussed the previous night on the way to school, but could come up with no answer. "I'm stumped." Frank cringed as he said the dreaded words. But it was true.

At school, they filled their friends, Tony Prito, Chet Morton, and Biff Hooper, along with Vanessa, Joe's girlfriend, and Callie, Frank's girlfriend, in on the strange happenings. They, too, could not make head or tails of it.

Discouraged, the boys headed for home in silence. As they were driving along a deserted road, they heard something that made their hearts stop from an alley nearby. A chilling scream, almost inhuman, pain filled, terrified. "Something's happened!" Joe yelled, and without thinking, pulled off his seatbelt and jumped out of the slowing car.

"Joe!" Frank yelled, jumping up and running after his brother. "No! We'll call the police-don't go propelling us into danger!"

"Sorry Frank," Joe panted back, not even bothering to look back at his brother. "No time...that woman is in danger, we've got to help!"

Joe reached the ally before his exasperated brother, and looked about, befuddled, when he saw it was empty. Frank caught up to him quickly. "Joe, you idiot!" he spat. He looked around, and seeing no one, turned back to his brother. "You could have gotten us killed."

But Joe wasn't listening. "What could've happened?" he wondered aloud. "I know it came from this ally."

"I don't know," replied Frank, tugging on Joe's arm. "But let's get out of here. It was probably nothing. But c'mon-we promised we would come straight home, remember?"

Sighing in resignation, Joe consented and began to walk out of the ally. The brothers stopped short, however, as many hooded, cloaked, and masked figures stepped out of the shadows, seemingly out of nowhere.

"I'm sorry," one hissed, his malicious voice soft and terrifying. "That will not be possible." He and the other figures pulled something out of their robes-what, Frank and Joe couldn't quite tell, although it looked like a stick of some kind, and pointed them at the boys. They knew they were in trouble.

Before they had a chance to cry out, however, the person who had spoken hissed, " _Stupify_ ," and a flash of red light appeared and the boys instantly crumpled, losing all awareness of their surroundings.

The robed group put away their weapons and stepped over to the unconscious boys. The one who had spoken removed his hood, revealing long, silvery blonde hair and blue eyes filled with hatred. He kicked Joe roughly on the side of the head and said, "We have done it. Goyle!"

"Yes, Lucius?"

The latter smiled unpleasantly at the boys and said, "Bring them. Our master will be very pleased...soon we will have Fenton Hardy doing our bidding without hesitation...lest he want his boys to suffer...and die."


	3. Chapter 3

" _Enervate._ " Frank awoke groggily to the sound of that strange word. He opened his eyes and saw the chilling form of a tall, thin man with waist-length blonde hair and cold gray eyes. This figure had a gleeful face, however, it also looked as if were pressed into a permanent sneer.

Frank blinked, trying to remember what had happened. Then, at another glance at the tell-tale form, it all came back to him—the scream, the cloaked and masked figures, the stick-like weapons they had pulled out—and Frank realized with a sickening feeling that he had he had been kidnapped. His fears were confirmed when he tried to move; his arms were tied painfully tight behind his back, while his ankles were bound together.

He glared up at the amused kidnapper, who was watching pleasantly as the young man struggled to free himself. But still, he said nothing.

Frank glanced around uneasily, taking in his prison. He was in a small, dark room with dirt floor and walls. There didn't seem to be any door or windows, but there had to be some way out, Frank reasoned. And he would have to discover it.

Then Franks eyes came to rest upon a motionless figure lying beside him. His heart sunk. His brother had been taken as well. "Joe!" he whispered anxiously, stealing a quick glance at the ever-sneering man, still watching him, twisted pleasure growing in his features as he watched his captives. Satisfied that he wasn't going to stop him from rousing Joe, Frank turned his gaze back to the bound-up youth by his side.

"Joe!" he said once more, this time a bit louder. Joe did not move. His usually bright blue eyes remained closed, and he did not shift position in the slightest. Fearing for his brother's life, Frank, not caring any longer if the kidnapper would see him, rolled closer to Joe, and was relieved to see his chest moving up and down evenly as he breathed.

But what was wrong with him? Then Frank noticed a nasty, bruised swelling on his brother's temple. Anger consumed him, and he twisted until he was facing his and Joe's abductor. "What did you do to him?"

"Why, whatever do you mean?" the man asked in his slippery voice, walking toward the boys, black robes billowing. He knelt between them and faced Frank first. "I see nothing wrong with him." He then turned to Joe and took his face in his pale hands. "Ah, ah, ah," he said in mock concern. "I stand corrected."

Inside, Lucius Malfoy was bubbling in elation. The plan, so far, was going perfectly…he had the boys, and he was now angering Blondie's brother with a nasty trick—the kids knew nothing of his powers—there was no way that the dark headed brat would know his brother wasn't harmed badly—just stunned and a mild bruise. It was a nasty trick, for sure, but nasty was right up his alley.

Keeping his grip on the young man's face, he moved aside and twisted Joe's head until the bruise on his temple was eye level with Frank. With his free hand, he fingered the swollen area and said, "Oh, dear…did my foot accidentally slip and hit his head? That is going to leave an angry mark, is it not?"

Furious, Frank growled, "Don't touch him."

And, to the latter's surprise, the cloaked kidnapper released Joe's head and rose, laughing slightly. "Not to worry," he said, still chortling evilly. "Your brother's state has nothing to do with my kicking him. In fact, he was unconscious, as were you, when I did it, so he didn't feel a thing…although he will he awakes. I simply stunned him, like you."

He then pulled out the stick he and the others had attacked the brothers with. Frank's eyes grew wide as the weapon was pointed at Joe. " _Enervate_ ," the man said, and to Frank's amazement and relief, Joe began to stir. His blue eyes blinked several times before he licked his parched lips and muttered, "Oooh, my head." Then he glanced about and asked, "What—what happened?" His sapphire eyes spotted his brother and he murmured, "Frank?" His pounding head beginning to clear, Joe realized the situation he and his brother were in. He immediately began testing his bonds. Seeing that it was pointless, he turned to the kidnapper. "Why did you kidnap us?"

"Good question. But first, allow me to introduce myself." Gray eyes gleaming maliciously, he said, "Lucius Malfoy. Dark wizard, servant of Lord Voldemort, your loyal abductor."

"Hold up," said Frank, furrowing his brow. "Did you say 'dark wizard'?"

"Of course you wouldn't know. Remember when Albus Dumbledore stopped by your house?" Seeing the boys bewildered faced, he smiled evilly and said, "Yes, I know about his little visit. Another of my master's servants, Peter Pettigrew, was spying on you all."

"But we didn't see anyone."

"Of course not," Lucius snapped. "He was a rat at the time."

Looking at each other, utterly confused, Frank and Joe exchanged curious glances.

"I would love to tell you more about my master, myself, your family, and your own deaths. However, Lord Voldemort, the man your mother said could torture beyond human existence, kill in a heartbeat, and so forth, would rather tell you himself. He will be here this time tomorrow. He would have been here sooner, but there were some last-second murders he had to attend to. Someone came too close to finding us.

"But," he continued, "he said I could give one of you a little present…" Snickering, he looked between the two boys. "But which one? Hmmm…" Seeing Frank look anxiously at his brother, who was still looking drowsy, he said, "I believe I know how to get at you both. If I hurt Blondie here," he said, stepping forward and grasping a handful of Joe's blonde hair in his hand, forcing the youth to look straight into his eyes, "I will be hurting Frank as well…correct?"

Seeing Joe's blue eyes fill with fear and Frank's indignant cry of, "Get your hands off of him! He didn't do anything to you!", he smiled inwardly.

"You have just confirmed my idea," he informed Frank. He released Joe's head, which hit the dirt floor with a thud.

"Now," Lucius went on, "in the 'good side', this is 'unforgivable', or illegal. But considering I do it on a daily basis, it won't really matter, will it?"

He removed the stick once more from his robes, smiling horribly, and pointed it directly at Joe's heart. "Remember how your mother said that Lord Voldemort can torture beyond human endurance? I have that power as well."

Joe's eyes grew wide, and Frank felt his fill with tears as he watched, unable to protect his brother, as Lucius prodded Joe's chest with the weapon, then pulled back and hissed, " _Crucio_."

Frank watched in speechless horror as Joe began writhing in pain, screaming in agony. Frank didn't know how this had happened, but he couldn't take it. "STOP!" he screamed. "STOP HURTING HIM!"

But Lucius ignored him and continued torturing the youth until, finally, with one final jolt of pain, he fell into a pit of pain-filled unconsciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

Joe slowly regained his senses. His head was pounding painfully, his eyes were stinging, and the rest of his body felt like he had been stabbed by millions of tiny knives. What had happened to him?

Then he remembered. He remembered running after the scream, getting caught by Lucius, waking up with a throbbing bruise and bound hand and foot, and then...the torture. He recalled seeing the stick-like weapon Lucius had pulled out of his robes. He could feel once more the kidnapper's grip on his hair, pulling him toward the evil face, taunting him. He felt the prod in his chest and heard the strange word the man uttered. And then, he remembered...the pain.

Joe gave an involuntary shudder.

The pain was worse than anything he had ever dealt with in his life. Worse than any gun or knife wound he had ever received. And he didn't even know how Lucius did it. It was almost like...magic.

But either way, the weapon that he had used had tormented the teenager tremendously. Joe began to tremble, from fear, exhaustion, and pain, even though it had dulled quite a bit.

Frank, still bound, looked anxiously at his brother as he began to shake.

"Joe?" he said frantically. "Joe, answer me! Are you okay? You awake?"

Joe kept his eyes shut. All he wanted to do was stay there, stay in his dark haven...away from the evil that had invited itself into his life, away from the pain and suffering. But Frank was so worried...

With tremendous effort, Joe rolled over and faced Frank, blue eyes pain-glazed.

"Joe!" said Frank in relief, studying his brother intently. He grew angry again, however, when he saw how much pain his brother was in. His face was pale and drawn, his usually cheery eyes were filled with pain and exhaustion.

"Frank..." Joe whispered, then glanced fervently around. "Is he...gone?"

"For now," Frank said, still watching his brother in concern.

Seeing Frank's anxious gaze, Joe flashed a weak smile and said, "I'm fine. Really. Just...sore. I wish I could move around though."

Frank gave a wry laugh. "You're not the only one."

"So...where'd he go?"

"I dunno. I'm not for sure, at least. He just walked out, saying he'd return tomorrow with that Voldemort guy."

Joe shuddered.

"Joe, you okay?"

Joe nodded, and Frank inquired, "What did he do to you?"

"I've no idea how he did it, but as to what he did..." The youth began shaking uncontrollably. "It was worse than any pain I've ever felt," he said in a hoarse whisper. "Like trillions of knives plunging into me...all over my body. It hurt so much. I thought...I wanted to die. For it to all end, to black out..."

"Oh, little brother." Frank had tears in his eyes as he watched his brother. "I'm so sorry you had to go through this. I'm sorry that I couldn't stop him. When he grabbed you and hurt you...You know I hurt when you hurt."

Joe smiled weakly. "I'm sorry, too."

"What for?"

"For going after that scream. If I hadn't done that, we wouldn't be here right now."

"Nah," said Frank, trying to sound carefree, "wasn't your fault."

Joe didn't speak.

"Hey, maybe we can free each other," Frank said, trying to boost his brother's spirits.

"I dunno...It hurts to move," Joe said doubtfully.

"Never mind," said Frank. "If I can just get my hands in front of me, "I'm pretty sure I can get lose."

"Have at it."

Frank frowned. He hated seeing Joe so downcast, and in pain. But instead of focusing on that, he turned his attention to getting free.  _If I get free, I can help Joe,_ he reminded himself.

Several hours passed, but finally, his hands were free. He gave a small cheer, and Joe smiled weakly. The pain was so dull now he could hardly feel it, but what had happened had shaken him up, and his head was throbbing painfully.

Frank sat up and untied his feet. Then he got up and stretched, his muscles cramping from being tied up for so long.

Stooping down beside his brother, he said, "Are you sure you're okay?" At Joe's nod, he continued, "Okay, baby brother, I'm going to flip you over so I can untie your hands."

"No need," said Joe, and with huge, painful effort, he rolled onto his stomach. Frank quickly freed his brother's arms and untied his ankles. When Joe was loose, Frank helped him sit up.

A wave of nausea swept over Joe as he sat. "Ohhhh..." he groaned. Then he retched on the hard dirt floor. Frank rubbed Joe's back, angry at what they had done to Joe...them...but especially Joe.

When Joe had finished, Frank put a protective arm around Joe and said, "I'm so sorry."

Joe shrugged his arm off and said, "I'm fine. Just sore."

Frank studied Joe carefully. He looked awful. "I don't know, Joe...you don't look so hot."

Joe sighed. "Don't feel so hot either, I guess. But I'll be fine. Here, help me up, will you?"

Frank said, "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Frank hesitantly stood up and grasped Joe's hand. When Joe was standing, he had to lean on Frank for support.

"Sorry," he muttered, "but my legs feel like Jell-O."

"Ahh, it's cool," said Frank, not trying to show how angry he was.

Finally Joe was able to support himself. "I swear I'm going to get them for doing this to you," Frank said in a low voice.

"Well, I wish you luck," Joe said sarcastically. "They're pretty darn powerful."

Frank smiled. "Feeling better?"

"Much."

"Great. Let's get outta here."

"Wait a sec," said Joe. "How did that creep leave? There is no door."

"I dunno," replied Frank, scratching his head. "To think of it, you were still out of it, and I was so worried about you, I didn't notice. But I do remember there being a door, I think. Yeah," he said, straining his memory. "Over there." He pointed to the wall to the left of them."

"You sure?" Joe asked doubtfully.

"Positive."

"Hmmm..." Joe said, approaching the wall. "Nothing. Was it a secret door?"

"No. Just a plain wooden door. I looked one minute and it was there; the next, it was gone."

"This is just too creepy," Joe said. "I don't like this."

"These are definitly the people Dumbledore warned us about," Frank stated. "We're in a bad situation."

"I wonder what they want with Dad?" Joe muttered, turning away.

"I guess we'll find out soon," Frank said in a tense voice. Joe swiveled around and stared.

"Frank," he said, "where did that door come from?" And sure enough, a large wooden door seemed to spring out of nowhere.

The boys had no time to contemplate the happenings, however, for at that moment, the door was opened and in stepped Lucius, followed by the most terrifying man the Hardys had ever seen in their lives.

They stood, petrified, looking at the tall, skeletal form of a man. His skin was paler than a skull, his red eyes gleamed maliciously. His black robes billowing, his snake-like nostrils dilating, and lipless mouth, curled into a sneer, he approached the boys. They were so caught up in this real-life nightmare that they didn't see the door disappearing as Lucius stood watching, amused.

He laid a spider-like hand on Frank's shoulder. The young man tensed, and Voldemort laughed softly. "Frank Hardy, I presume," he hissed, eyes brightening. "Oh, you look so much like your dear father." He removed his hand and turned to Joe.

"You, on the other hand," he said, "look like your mother." His eyes hardened. "Your dear, sweet mother." He smirked, then without any warning, he slapped Joe across the face so hard it sent him to the ground.

Frank, still shaken, turned to the villain and spat, "Don't touch him!"

Voldemort looked at Frank calmly as Joe picked himself up. "Don't worry," he hissed, "I have plans for both you and young Joseph." He turned back to Joe, and touched the red place softly. Joe flinched. Voldemort laughed and removed his spidery hand.

He placed it in his robes and pulled out a stick-weapon. Joe paled visibly, and the man laughed and turned to Lucius. "I suppose he was the one you tortured?"

Lucius nodded. "Good," he said. "Now he knows more of what he's in for if his father doesn't join with me-once and for all."


	5. Chapter 5

Joe gulped, and Voldemort's lipless mouth curled into a twisted smile. He pointed his stick at Joe, muttered strange word, and ropes came out of nowhere and twisted themselves tightly around the youth. Joe's arms were now tied tightly to his sides and his legs bound painfully together. He lost his balance and fell heavily to the ground. Then Voldemort turned to Frank and did the same. As Frank fell beside his brother, Voldemort began to pace slowly in front of the boys, red eyes gleaming maliciously.

"I suppose you are wondering what is going on," he began, looking at each boy with his terrible eyes. Frank and Joe exchanged fearful glances, but otherwise remained silent. Voldemort studied intently, then resumed talking. "Before I continue my plans, I shall tell you all you need to know." He paused, then said, "You don't know anything, do you? About your family? Your father? Your legacy?"

"Legacy?" snorted Joe. "Sure, we're the sons of the 'famous' Fenton Hardy, but that's not exactly a legacy is it?" Voldemort's eyes hardened and he kicked Joe roughly in the ribs. Joe gasped in pain, and Frank glowered, but Voldemort ignored them both and said coldly, "Do not speak unless you have permission. Surely your father taught you respect of those more powerful than you…"

Joe glared at him, eyes filled with hatred. Voldemort chuckled darkly.

"First," he said, "let me tell you a little about myself. I, Lord Voldemort, and the most feared and powerful being in the wizarding world."

"Are you part of some kind of twisted cult?" Joe demanded, then grunted in pain as Voldemort's foot connected with his side once more.

"You do not seem to want to learn, do you? Ah, well, you will soon enough. And to answer your naïve question, no, I am not part of a 'cult'. I am a wizard."

Seeing Frank and Joe's baffled expressions, he said, "Yes, there are such things as wizards. In fact, your very father used to be one of the most powerful wizards on the face of the earth."

Frank and Joe stared. "That's not possible! Why are you telling us all this crap?" Joe shot, and closed his eyes, preparing for another kick as Voldemort neared him. He opened them, however, when he felt. He jumped and tensed as he saw the man kneeling beside him.

"Oh, it's possible," he said, taking out his stick and pointed it at Joe's heart.

Joe felt the blood drain from his face, but he remained calm and forced himself to look away from the weapon that was still level to his heart. "What is that thing?"

"Oh, this?" said Voldemort, glancing carelessly at the weapon. "It is a wand."

"That's not possible," Joe repeated.

"Is it not?" Smirking, Voldemort returned the wand to his robes and stood up. Joe gave a sigh of relief and Voldemort chuckled inwardly. "How else do you explain how we stunned you?"

"It could be some sort of stun gun," Frank put in, but his voice betrayed his thoughts.

"Frank!" Joe said, staring at his brother, wide-eyed. He had heard his tone. "Don't tell me you believe this! You're supposed to be the sensible one!"

"Well," said Frank slowly, casting a quick glance at the man standing before him. When he made no move to kick him or his brother, he continued, "is there any other way to explain all the weird stuff that's been going on? I mean, this ancient guy coming to our house, Mom and Dad acting so strangely, us getting attacked in the alley, what he—" he nodded at Lucius, who was standing in a corner and hadn't said a word this whole time, "—did to you, how the door is appearing and disappearing, how those ropes just sprung out of thin air—" he paused, his brow furrowing, "—and if I remember right, didn't Dumbledore have an old rocking chair he must have made appear?"

Joe frowned. "I…guess."

"I mean, it doesn't make sense," Frank went on, acting as if Joe hadn't even spoken, his voice rising in excitement, "but somehow it seems possible. I really can't explain it…I can just see it now. I don't know—but everything is sort of coming together now. Don't you see? If Dad was trying to protect us or something, he brought us up believing that there was a logical explanation for everything, while, really, there was a whole supernatural world just outside our door."

"Very good," said Voldemort, smiling evilly. "You certainly do have your father's skills."

"Okay," said Frank, "if this is really true, then what do you want with Dad? With us? Why did you take us?"

"Yeah," put in Joe. He was starting to understand what his brother was saying, and see the completely insane possibility of this being true, and was getting excited about the thought of being the son of a real wizard, perhaps even a wizard himself, despite his desperate situation. "What did we ever do to you?"

Voldemort's eyes became hard and he said, "Your father did so many horrible things to me…and you did as well, my dear Joe."

Joe looked at the villain before him, confused. What had he ever done to him?

But Voldemort was speaking again. "Your father," he said, "was once a very powerful wizard. He was one of my greatest enemies, and a huge threat to me and my work in taking over the world with the Dark Arts. But it was a surprise when he joined forces with me."

"Dad would never join with scum like you!" Frank spat, losing his temper. Voldemort kicked him roughly in the side and then continued his story.

"But I was stupid," he went on. "I was so overjoyed with having such a powerful ally that I didn't realize that he was double-crossing me. It turned out that he was spying on me for the Ministry of Magic, and when I found out I was very angry. So I vowed revenge. Your father immediately put a defense against him…he abandoned his powers completely, went to living as a muggle detective—a non-magical person—and put a spell on himself where I wouldn't be able to find him even if he was standing right in front of me. But that proved to be a problem.

"Eventually, I stopped hunting for him. That is around the time I lost all my powers when I was unable to kill Harry Potter because of his mother's love."

"Who is Harry Potter?" Frank asked.

"His parents were powerful wizards as well. I went into their house one night after Peter Pettigrew betrayed them, killed his father, and then told his mother that she needn't die if she just step aside and kill Harry. She refused, and I killed her. I moved in to kill Harry, but because of his mother's love, he survived, and as a result, I was stripped of my powers." His lip curled at the memory. "For years, I was barely alive…then, two years ago, Wormtail—Peter Pettigrew—helped restore me to my body with Harry Potter's blood, my father's bone, and his own flesh. But the boy escaped me again.

"You see," he said, staring at the boys that were hating him more every second, "I had been trying to kill him since he found out he was a wizard, when he was eleven. And the brat escaped every time…and there is a prophecy. Either I will kill him, or he will kill me. And, since he is now sixteen, and has escaped my clutches for five years…I have realized how powerful he will be. So I need your father to combine his powers with me to get rid of Potter…but he refuses…

"Actually, I have been trying to get him to help since I came back, two years ago. I knew if I could just get to you two, I could make him jump through hoops to get you back safely…" He looked steadily into Joe's eyes, red eyes showing pure hatred, and said, "…or at least, one of you…"

Joe shuddered.

"You know," said Voldemort, taking his wand out of his robes and pressing the tip into Joe's cheek so hard that it hurt, "I never liked you."

Despite the wand painfully pressed into his face, and the fear that was bubbling up inside him, Joe said, "No. Never could figure that out."

Sneering, Voldemort said, "No, you misunderstand me. Compared to you, I might as well love your brother."

"Why?" asked Joe, his stomach beginning to feel sick.

Voldemort drove the wand harder into Joe's face and the boy whimpered in pain. "Please stop hurting him," Frank pleaded, but Voldemort ignored him.

"Why?" he said, looking Joe directly in the eyes. "Simple of course. You killed my daughter."


	6. Chapter 6

Joe stared at the evil man standing before him, Frank doing the same. Joe was so surprised he didn't even notice at first when Voldemort stood up and the wand was no longer pressed into his face.

"What?" Joe said, finally finding his voice. "Killed your daughter? I never killed anyone."

Instead of answering, Voldemort said, "Remember your little girlfriend, Iola Morton?"

A sickening feeling creeping into the pit of his stomach, Joe nodded slowly. His girlfriend, the girl he was madly in love, the girl he had planning on spending his whole life with, had recently died in a car bombing…meant for him.

"Did you know she was adopted?"

"What?" Joe started at this statement. "No she wasn't. She…she would've told me."

"Ah, ah, ah…not if she didn't know it herself. You see, Ms. Morton had a very odd childhood. Her father, one who had vowed to live his life alone and never feel love for a soul, broke that promise when he fell in love with a beautiful American girl during a trip for school. They eloped secretly and had one daughter, naming her Iola. Iola…Riddle, that was her real name. But, soon after their marriage, the little girl's father got into the Dark Arts. He began wanting power…killing people, torturing, controlling them. His wife was not happy when she found out. She warned him not to get any further…to come back. But he refused, and got angry. Fearing for her life, she fled to Bayport where she put her two year old daughter up for adoption, not wanting her husband to hurt their daughter.

"The Mortons, whose family consisted of a mother, father, and their only child, a three year old boy, Chet, were delighted to take in the baby. However, Iola's real mother said she wanted her child to know nothing of her past, and to bring her up like one of the family…to not tell her she was adopted. She feared it might endanger her and she wanted her to be happy. Her husband, however, was powerful, and he found out about this. He killed the mother, but let the child live. He decided that one day, when Iola was old enough, he would come back for he would teach her the Dark Arts. But that was delayed one day, when all his powers were stripped from him.

"Joe Hardy," he said, eyes blazing, "do you know what my real name is? Tom. Tom  _Riddle_. Iola Morton was my daughter. And you killed her."

Joe, his face pale, eyes swimming with unshed tears, choked out, "I didn't kill her. I loved her. That bomb wasn't my fault. I…I would have died in her place if I could."

Frank looked at his brother sadly, concern etched in his face. He couldn't believe this…poor Joe. He had been through enough this past year with Iola's death, and now this. He burned in anger for this injustice, but he said nothing, just gazed at Joe, wishing he could do something to comfort him.

Voldemort scoffed at the youth and said, "That wasn't a bomb. It was a form of magic disguised as a bomb. I had one of my servants put it in your car. I was going to scare your father into joining forces with me. I thought that if one of his sons died, he'd do anything to protect the other. But my plans went wrong. If you hadn't dated Iola, if she hadn't been in the car…you killed her."

"No," Joe practically screamed. "No, I didn't. You did. You did. You're the one who put it there. You killed her mother. You ruined her life, our life together."

Frank was very angry. "Joe didn't do anything!" he exclaimed, and Voldemort turned to him, eyes flashing. "How could you? You killed your own wife?"

"My parents as well," Voldemort said, as if it were something one does every day.

"You're disgusting," Frank spat. "Killing your own family, and then acting like Joe killed your daughter…his true love. Acting like you actually loved her. Like you cared if she was gone."

"Oh, I didn't say anything about love," Voldemort sneered. "Just more of a matter of honor. And I could tell she would be powerful someday."

"Honor?" Joe choked back the hot tears that were threatening to spill down his cheeks. "Honor? You killed your own family. I don't see how honor would matter to you much."

"It is different when someone else murders a family member."

"I didn't hurt her!" Joe yelled. Anger was now dominating over his sorrow. This man had killed Iola…and said that he did.

"And you kill other people's family all the time!" Frank snarled. "Honor. Ha."

Lucius finally stepped out of the shadows. "Milord," he hissed, "this has been a…wonderfully productive discussion, but I suggest we move on with our plans. If we want Fenton, we must get the boys ready for the plot."

"Of course, my slippery friend, but all in good time."

"You'll never get away with this," Joe snarled.

Voldemort laughed. "And I am sure that is what you say to all of your foes when you confront them for a 'final battle'. But oh, now my friends. I have plans for you and I am going through with it." He then turned to Lucius. "My friend," he said, "untie Frank." As Lucius said a spell and the ropes fell off Frank, Voldemort told the youth, "I have a job for you."

He pulled Frank roughly to his feet, and the young man looked anxiously at his brother, still tied up on the floor. "What about Joe?"

"Ah, do not worry about your brother. He is staying with us while you do a job. I can't let my daughter's killer get away, can I? Especially when I need a bargaining chip and revenge…"

"You're not going to hurt him!" Frank yelled.

" _Crucio_!" As soon as the word came out of Voldemort's mouth, Frank's entire body erupted in pain, as he fell to the ground, screaming in agony. Joe watched helplessly as his brother flailed about, trying to escape from his misery. Before he lost consciousness, however, Voldemort removed the spell and yanked the shaking youth to his feet.

Frank stood trembling, his entire body hurting more than he could ever imagined.

"Do not contradict me." Voldemort said these words softly, threateningly. "You see what kind of pain your brother will go through if you don't do this job for me? And I happen to know that this curse, this unforgivable curse, can kill if it is used too much."

"Unforgivable curse?" Joe asked, still horribly shaken.

"There are three. I will demonstrate the one I will be using on your brother right now."

"No, don't hurt him," Joe pleaded, and Voldemort smiled.

"Not all unforgivable curses cause physical pain. At least to the person under the curse." He then pointed his wand and Frank and hissed, " _Imperio._  Frank," said Voldemort softly, giving the youth a small knife, "puncture your brother's shoulder with this. Not enough to harm him badly…just to inflict pain."

Joe's eyes widened as Frank took the dagger and advanced on him. "Frank," he said softly. "Please. No. What are you doing? Stop!"

But Frank advanced on him, and, despite Joe's horrified protests, knelt down beside his brother, and with no expression on his face at all, plunged the knife into his brother's shoulder.


	7. Chapter 7

Joe bit his lip and his eyes watered in agony as the knife plunged into his shoulder. He refused to cry out, however, for he did not want to please Voldemort. He felt warm blood trickling down his shoulder and drenching his shirt and he began to feel a bit faint.

The youth looked up at his brother, pain-glazed blue eyes searching the expressionless brown ones. Joe knew that Frank hadn't done this of his own free will.

He had no time to consider the matter any further, however, as Voldemort hissed, "Ah, ah, ah. Frank, it seems like your brother doesn't want to cooperate. Why don't you give the dagger a twist?"

"No," Joe breathed, struggling to escape his bonds as much as his stinging shoulder would allow. "Frank, no! Please don't hurt me again!"

His brother, however, gripped the knife in his hands and twisted it. Joe screamed in agony. Voldemort smiled and stepped over to the brothers. Joe's face was deathly pale from pain; hot tears of anguish were making their way down his ashen face. Voldemort removed the spell from Frank, and the young man shook his head, dazed. "What happened?" he muttered. He couldn't remember anything from the past five minutes. He then looked down and nearly passed out.

Joe was lying on the ground, bound tightly, and a knife was buried deep within his blood-soaked shoulder. And Frank was holding the dagger. He looked at his brother with tear filled eyes. He removed the dagger from the youth's shoulder, which brought a new shudder of pain from him. Frank then reached down and stroked his brother's tear-streaked face. "Joe," he whispered.

Joe opened his pain-filled eyes and looked at Frank, dazed. "Frank?" he managed to crack out before fading into unconsciousness.

"Oh, little brother," Frank sobbed. "What have I done?"

Voldemort pulled Frank to his feet and said, "Don't worry about your brother, my dear Frank. He shall be fine…I am not finished with him, and if he is dead, then how can I get your father to do my bidding?"

Frank glared at the evil men standing before him, hatred burning in his eyes.

"Now," said Voldemort, "it is time for me to tell you of your job." He smiled evilly and said, "I will be putting two spells on you. First, a memory charm, so you will not remember what has happened here or what this place looks like. All you will remember is what I have told you and that Joe is tied up in a place you know not, in grave danger."

"No," Frank whispered, but Voldemort wasn't finished yet.

"The second is the Imperious Curse, the very one I just used to make you stab your own brother."

Frank, eyes wide in fear and anger, said, "No. You can't. And I'm not going anywhere! I'm staying with Joe."

"Oh, but don't you want to see your parents again?"

Frank stared at him.

"Yes, that's right. I'm sending you back to your parents so you can be an…'ambassador' for me." Before Frank could react, he swept out his wand, pointed it at the boy, and said, " _Imperio._ " Frank immediately felt like he was in a dream. There was no pain, he felt light and airy. Then he heard the voice, strong and harsh.

"Frank," Voldemort said, "we are going to transport you home to your very doorstep. When you get there, you will walk in and tell your parents that if they want Joe to live, Fenton will join with Lord Voldemort. They will surely notice that you are under the Imperious Curse and remove it. But make sure you tell them what I have bid you first."

Frank nodded his head, the sensation of light-headedness overwhelming.

"Now, I am going to put a memory charm on you. When you come out of the Imperious Curse, you will remember nothing of your time here but the image of Joe lying in a dark room, bound hand and foot, blood pouring down his shoulder and the fact that if your father doesn't join with us, his 'baby boy' will suffer and die.  _Obliviate!_ " And his memory was gone.

Then Voldemort said another spell and the room with Joe and the captors faded away as Frank found himself standing on his front step. Everything seemed distant still, and he had only one thing on his blurry mind: to do the task he was bidden.

He opened the door and heard frantic voices distantly from the kitchen. Though under a spell, he recognized his father's voice as well as his mother's, and another voice…but whose was it? Albus Dumbledore, he finally realized.

"I don't see why I can't call the police," he heard his father say frantically.

"Fenton," came Dumbledore's calm yet strained voice, "we know for sure this is the work of Voldemort. There is no reason to alert the police. They will not be able to find his lair, especially without magic."

"He's right, honey," Laura put in. "And, since we know it is…well, Voldemort—" she said the name like one would of a poison, "—then he will surely send a messenger sometime soon."

"I just hope that they are okay," Fenton sighed.

Frank walked into the kitchen. Laura was the first to spot him. "OH MY GOSH!" she screamed, making the others look up. They had surrounded the dazed teen in a second.

Dumbledore took Frank's pale face in his wrinkled hands. "Frank," he said. "Frank, are you alright?"

Instead of answering, Frank stated in a monotone voice, "If you want Joe to live, join with Lord Voldemort."

All three paled at this statement. Laura stuttered, "What do you mean, honey?" When Frank did not reply, she turned to Dumbledore and her ashen husband. "What's wrong with him?"

"Imperious Curse," both Dumbledore and Fenton said in unison.

Fenton scowled. "Apparently Frank has been chosen to act as an ambassador for Voldemort."

Dumbledore pulled out his wand and pointed at the eldest Hardy. He muttered the counter-curse. As Frank blinked his eyes, confused, he said, "Frank, are you okay?"

"Yeah," the boy muttered.

"Come on," ordered Dumbledore, taking the youth by the forearm with a surprisingly strong grip, and led him to the living room. "Sit." Frank did as he was told, exhausted.

"I know that you don't feel well," Fenton said, after taking a seat next to his wife and Dumbledore, "but we need to know: what happened?"

A frown creased Frank's forehead. Straining his memory, he said, "I don't remember. I…remember getting jumped in the alley by some cloaked men with sticks…and I don't know if this is really a memory, or just a feeling…or an image…but I do recall Joe tied up in some dark place—where, I don't know. He had a dagger wound in his right shoulder, that was bleeding badly."

Fenton and Laura paled. "Are you sure that's all you can remember?"

"Yes." Frank nodded.

"It seems that Frank has been hit with a memory charm."

"Do you suppose," Fenton began, looking at Dumbledore nervously, "since all the spells and charms have been performed on Frank…that they know?"

"I am sure they do…or did, in Frank's case." Frank, at this time, was sitting quietly, barely hearing the conversation that was going on around him. Gosh, he was tired. And he knew that something was terribly wrong. His brother was in some kind of danger. If only…if only he could remember what had happened after the alley attack, they might be able to find Joe.

"Is there any way to get his memory back?" Laura asked anxiously.

Dumbledore sighed. "It depends on how strong the charm was. Maybe, just maybe, if Frank concentrates enough on the subject and strains his memory, he might get it back. But if he is to do that, which I highly recommend, he needs sleep. Perhaps he can tell us more in the morning. In the meantime, I am going to London and getting Harry and his friends. They will be safer here with me than at their homes, as they are on summer break right now. Also, this is ultimately Harry's battle, but I know he won't want to face it without his best friends by his side. They will want to help find Joe. I shall be back with them in the morning.

He disappeared.

Frank went to sleep, straining his memory for what happened to him and Joe. He fell to sleep with a memory on the edge of his consciousness. While asleep, he dreamed of a man with pale skin and red eyes, someone with silvery hair and gray eyes, Iola's death being blamed on his brother. And when he awoke, he knew it was true. He had remembered. He was much more powerful than Voldemort had assumed. He ran downstairs, still in his pajamas.

"Mom! Dad!" he yelled. They woke up instantly and looked at him anxiously as he entered the room. "I remember!" He exclaimed. "I remember everything!"


	8. Chapter 8

Sixteen year old Harry Potter's green eyes began to close and his head began to nod as he sat at a desk, a piece of parchment lying in front of him and a quill in his hand. He quickly shook himself awake and scowled at the homework in front of him. He had to write an essay on "How to turn a teacup into a mouse." Sighing in exasperation, he pushed the half-finished assignment away and stood up, stretching his tall form.

Harry Potter was indeed a very different person, even in the wizarding world. When his parents had been murdered by Voldemort fifteen years ago, and he had been left with nothing but a scar, he had been left on his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's doorstep, and had spent the next ten years being tormented by them and his cousin, Dudley, not knowing that he was famous, known as "The Boy Who Lived", knowing nothing of his legacy. When he was eleven, however, he began attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and had been attending ever since. He was just happy to be away from his "family" this summer; he was spending the holidays with his best friend, Ron Weasly's family, and his other best friend, Hermione Granger, was staying as well.

He yawned and brushed his jet black hair out of his eyes, and lay down in the cot near Ron's bed. Ron heard him and opened his eyes sleepily. His red hair seemed to fit in perfectly with his bright crimson room, celebrating his favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons. "Harry? You still up?"

"Yeah," Harry answered, stifling another yawn. "Thought I'd finish McGonagall's report."

"Can I copy it?" Ron asked eagerly.

Harry laughed and took off his glasses. "You've got Hermione for that. If you copied off me, you'd fail for sure."

He closed his eyes to go to sleep, but didn't get the chance, as Hermione slunk into the room at that moment and said, "Harry, Ron! Get up!"

"S'up?" Ron muttered blearily.

"Dumbledore is downstairs!" Hermione said. "I heard him talking to your parents and went down—it seems he wants to talk to all of us, so get ready and come down." She started to walk out but paused in the doorway and faced Ron. "And no, Ronald, you cannot copy my report." With an indignant toss of her thick, curly brown hair, she headed downstairs.

Harry and Ron were out of bed and ready in no time.

"I wonder what Dumbledore wants?" Harry wondered aloud.

"I dunno," said Ron excitedly, "but it has to be something pretty important, doesn't it? I mean, how many times does the greatest wizard in the world, not to mention your own headmaster, come to your house at four in the morning?"

"Maybe you're in trouble," Harry put in teasingly. Ron paled at the thought.

By this time, they had reached the kitchen, where, sure enough, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, along with Hermione and Professor Dumbledore were seated at the table. Harry took a seat between Hermione and Dumbledore, while Ron sat down beside his father.

"Ah, Harry, Ronald!" said Dumbledore brightly, smiling at the boys. "So good to see you." He then became grave.

"I am afraid that I have to borrow you three for a while." Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who had already heard the story, looked grim but, unlike the three friends, not surprised.

"What do you need us for, Professor?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Something very disturbing has happened," Dumbledore said sadly. "Voldemort has struck again."

"You mean all those attacks in London the other day?" Hermione asked. "I heard about it!"

"No, Ms. Granger, sadly, that isn't all. This time, in America."

"America!" Ron breathed. "Why there?"

"A very powerful wizard, no doubt my equal or very possibly my superior, lives there. Voldemort cannot get to him directly because of certain spells, so he kidnapped Fenton's (he is the wizard I am talking about) two sons, Frank and Joe, who are eighteen and seventeen."

"Oh, how horrible!" Hermione said. "But why kidnap them? Why didn't he just kill them?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Did he need them for something?" He shivered involuntarily as he recalled the time when he had been abducted by the Dark Lord because he needed his blood to come back. He also wanted to kill Harry, but the boy had escaped.

"Yes. A bargaining tool. See, Voldemort wants Fenton to join with him. Problem is, Fenton is one of the most moral people you will meet. Also, in order to remain undetected, he gave up his powers. He hasn't used them since he double-crossed Voldemort. As far as we know, Frank and Joe don't have any yet. Fenton is a private investigator, and the boys are amateur detectives."

Ron asked, "What do you want us to do?"

"It seems," began Dumbledore, his kind blue eyes mirrors of sorrow, "that he wants Fenton to help him destroy you, Harry."

Harry paled.

"Harry, listen to me," said Dumbledore, grasping the boy's shoulder and shaking it slightly. "The final confrontation is drawing nearer. Until time to fight however, you need to remain safe, and it seems that you will be safer with me." He then filled the trio in on the events of Frank's return and the Imperious Curse and memory charm.

"So Frank got away?" Hermione asked, making sure she had all the facts right.

"Yes."

"But Joe is still captive of Voldemort?"

"Yes…and I thought you three would like to help find him."

The three nodded vigorously, an Dumbledore said, "Well, then, prepare to leave for America. We will be using a portkey."

* * *

Voldemort looked at the unconscious youth lying helplessly before him in disgust. He muttered a charm, and the boy's shoulder was instantly wrapped in a thick white bandage. "There," he hissed. "At least he won't bleed to death while we still need him." He turned to Lucius. "Do you have any plans for tonight?"

"No sir. I can delay meeting with my son until later. He is coming back from Goyle's home."

"Good. I have matters to attend to. This brat is in your charge until I return. Do what you wish with him, but DO NOT kill him. I trust you, my slippery friend." Then he disappeared into thin air.

Joe stirred, and Lucius looked at him like a lion about to attack its prey. "Hello, Blondie," he hissed, as Joe opened his blue eyes. "I am in charge of you until my master returns." Joe looked up at him fearfully as he continued. "You know, Lord Voldemort took the death of his daughter very hard. I think that her murderer needs to be punished.

Joe's eyes filled with tears as he thought about Iola. Lucius mistook the reason behind them and sneered at the youth. "Scared, Pretty Boy?" he hissed. "Just wait. When we have no more use for you, you'll have reason to be afraid. The pain you're in now will feel like a tickle."

Fear filled Joe's eyes and Lucius chuckled. " _Crucio_!" But this time, Joe was ready. He rolled over and dodged the curse. The green flash erupted just inches from his head. Lucius' eyes flashed with anger.

"You are making me angry, Joseph," he said. "I am not playing a game with you."

He walked forward, put a food on Joe's chest and pressed down until the youth's airway was completely blocked. Just before Joe passed out from lack of air, Lucius removed his foot, and as Joe gasped for breath, he pointed his wand at the boy once more and said, " _Crucio!_ " And this time, Joe wasn't able to do anything to protect himself. Lucius smiled as his agonized screams echoed through the night. Music to his ears.


	9. Chapter 9

Fenton and Laura sat bolt upright at Frank's statement. "What?" Fenton stammered. "You…you remember?"

"Yes," Frank answered, staring at his father like he were seeing him for the first time.

"Are you sure?" Fenton inquired.

Frank nodded, still looking at his father in amazement.

Fenton failed to notice and demanded, "Are you sure? How do you know that you're remembering right? And how did it happen?"

"I don't know how it happened—I just went to sleep concentrating on finding Joe—on remembering. And then…I guess maybe I dreamed it. I don't know."

"Hm," Fenton said, exchanging bewildered glances with his wife. "I have no doubt that all will be revealed in the future. However, what we need to do now is concentrate on finding Joe. Frank, I need to know exactly what happened—why are looking at me like that?"

Frank shook his head. "Sorry, Dad—it's just…it's so hard to believe now that I'm safe at home that you're a…well, you know…"

"A wizard?"

Frank nodded, then began trembling uncontrollably. "We've got to find him," he whispered. "Before they hurt him more. What they did to him…us…but mainly him was horrible."

Laura guided Frank to the bed and he sat, trying to calm himself down.

"Frank, Joe's life is on the line here—tell us everything."

Frank was about to speak when there was a soft knock at the door. "Hold on," Fenton ordered. "Frank, Laura, why don't you come down with me—it's Dumbledore. He needs to hear everything as well."

Frank nodded again, and the worried family made their way downstairs. Fenton went to the door while aura and Frank sat down. A moment later, Dumbledore entered the living room, accompanied by three teenagers. Frank looked at them curiously while Fenton hastily invited them in. Laura asked them to sit down, and Dumbledore conjured several chairs from thin air. When they were seated, Dumbledore said, "Allow me to introduce Ron Weasley—" he inclined his head toward a tall, gangly red-head boy, "—Hermione Granger—" he nodded at a pretty girl with bushy brown hair and slightly crooked teeth who was eyeing Frank with interest, "—and Harry Potter." He smiled at the last boy with jet black hair, stunning green eyes, and a thin lightening-shaped scar on his forehead. "And this is Fenton, Laura, and Frank Hardy. It is my hope that you shall meet young Joe in the near future."

"You're Harry Potter?" Frank asked, amazed. At Harry's nod, he continued, "Voldemort mentioned you."

The Hogwarts trio looked at him in amazement. Dumbledore smiled. "I take it you have remembered what happened."

"Yes sir…but how?"

"I have a theory about that," Dumbledore said, "but first you need to tell us exactly what happened after the Death Eaters—Voldemort's servants—attacked you."

While this was going on, Hermione turned to Laura and Fenton. "It is a pleasure meeting you all," she said with a sad smile. "I've read all about you and you're sons' accomplishments, of course, Mr. Hardy. I only wish I could meet Joe as well."

"Oh you will," Fenton said, trying unsuccessfully to sound offhand, "when we find him." He looked as if he were going to cry.

At that moment, Dumbledore motioned for all to be quiet and Frank shakily began his story, all eyes on him. "After they…stunned us," Frank stumbled over the strange new magical terms, "I woke up in a dark, damp room. I have no idea where I was being held at, and the best description I can give of the place is that the walls and floor were made of dirt, and there was no door, although one appeared when Voldemort—" Ron flinched at the name; everyone ignored him, "or his accomplice wanted to go in or out. When I woke up in that room, I was tied up and Lucius Malfoy was standing over me." Harry's teeth clenched when Frank mentioned Lucius, but remained silent at a look from Dumbledore.

Frank continued, voice shaking. "Joe was tied up beside me and he was unconscious. When Lucius took the…stun…off him, he was still really woozy because Lucius kicked him in the head." His voice grew as he got more worked up. "I mean, there was this huge bruised swelling on his head! If I would've been free, I'd have killed that scum then and there!" He closed his eyes, sighed, and went on. Frank continued the story, relating what had happened to him and Joe. When he got to when Lucius tortured Joe, Fenton stiffened in his seat and Laura's eyes filled with tears. The three friends looked down at their feet, feeling sorry for the family and Joe. Only Dumbledore kept direct eye contact with the distressed youth and urged him to go on.

Making sure to save the startling revelation about Iola until last, Frank, with tear glazed eyes, related how Voldemort had used the Imperious curse to make him stab Joe. Recalling the look of pure horror and anguish on his brother's face, Frank broke down. He didn't care that his parents, Dumbledore, and three teenagers he barely knew saw him. All he knew was that his brother was in the clutches of the wizard everyone feared—some wouldn't even speak his name. He tried to continue, but his voice caught in his throat and tears fell down his face. Laura put a hand on his back and tried to comfort him, but was on the verge of tears herself. Her baby was missing—his life in the hands of a madman, and her eldest, Frank, the cool-headed, calm one, was falling apart. She had never seen him so distressed—but then again, Frank had never stabbed Joe before either.

"Was he badly hurt?" Dumbledore asked when Frank had calmed down.

Clearing his throat, feeling a bit embarrassed for breaking down, Frank said, "I don't know. He passed out right before Voldemort used the curse to get me to say that if Joe was to live, Dad would join with him. Then he took away memory and I found myself here."

"Is that all?" Fenton asked with a heavy heart.

"No," Frank said, dreading this next part. His voice was threatening to break as he said, "Voldemort had a daughter."

Dumbledore looked at Frank sharply as the others gasped. "Impossible."

"No, sir, I promise…he told us…he never told anyone, even his followers that he got married. Then he got mad at his wife, and when she ran away to America to save herself and the baby, he tracked them down. She had let someone adopt her daughter. Voldemort found her and killed his own wife. His parents too." Dumbledore nodded. How could he have missed this? He mentally chided himself on not knowing.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at Frank. "Are you trying to tell me that You-Know-Who was a father?" Ron asked, awed.

"Son, do you know who his daughter is?" Fenton asked hastily. "Where is she?"

This was going to be harder than he thought. Frank blinked back the oncoming flow of tears as he whispered, "She's dead."

"But do you know who she was, Sweetie?" Laura asked, brushing a loose strand of hair from Frank's expressive brown eyes.

"I-Iola."

Laura and Fenton sucked in their breath. "Are you sure?"

Frank nodded. Dumbledore frowned. "That was Joe's girlfriend that was killed in an bombing, correct?"

"It wasn't a bombing. Voldemort put it in the car—a form of disguised magic. He meant to kill Joe, not Iola. He thought if he could kill one of your sons, you would be so scared of losing the other that you would willingly submit to his will. He blames Joe for Iola's death. That's why Joe's been the one tortured. The one that was kept instead of me. The one who was stabbed. The one who's going to die whether you join or not, Dad. I could see it in his eyes—he is angry at Joe and is going to kill him no matter what. His only hope is that we find him. And fast. If not, Joe's done for."


	10. Chapter 10

Joe lay on the floor, pain wracking his body. Lucius had left the room a few moments earlier, after nearly torturing the youth into unconsciousness once more. Joe couldn't recall ever being in so much pain. The curse had again put his body through pure agony. He had wanted to die, to give it all up—and that wasn't normal. Usually, whenever he was in severe pain, on the verge of death, his stubborn nature would kick in, and he would to let go. But this time…this time was different. When the curse was upon him, Joe wanted nothing more than to die, be put out of his misery—and that realization scared him.

On top of that, his wounded shoulder throbbed painfully with every beat of his heart. Joe still couldn't believe it—Frank had stabbed him. But recalling those normally animated chocolate eyes dull and expressionless, he knew that he had been forced to do it—he didn't know what he was doing. But still, the wound was there. And it hurt. And he knew it would haunt him forever. Joe's already moist eyes filled with tears as he once more heard his brother's last words to him before Joe had blacked out.  _'Oh, little brother. What have I done?'_ And now he was gone, and Joe didn't know where he was. All he remembered was Voldemort saying that Frank was doing a job for him. But he wouldn't do it—unless he was forced to. Joe hoped that wherever he was, he was okay and better off than his brother.

Not only that, his muscles ached from not being able to move for so long. The ropes were cutting into his arms, and he regretted wearing a short sleeved T-shirt. Since he was wearing jeans, they didn't cut into his legs as much. He was hungry too. Having not eaten in over twenty-four hours, he was feeling rather weak.

Oh, and the emotional suffering! None of the physical pain he was in could compare to how much he hurt due to the revelation about Iola. Not only did this man kill her, he himself was accused of killing her. "I'm sorry, Iola," he whispered.

Then he mentally shook himself.  _'C'mon, get over yourself, Hardy,'_ he chided himself.  _'You can bet, wherever Frank is, he's not having a pity-party.'_ Joe knew that he shouldn't dwell on his discomfort; it would only make things worse. Maybe he could wriggle free from his bonds like Frank had done, but quickly realized he wasn't going anywhere. Every time he moved, a sharp pain shot through his shoulder. Also, when Frank had escaped earlier, his arms hadn't been tied to his sides. Joe couldn't move an inch.

Not bothering to conceal the growl of frustration, Joe lay still, defeated. He knew it was selfish and maybe a bit cruel, but he really wished Frank was here with him. He didn't like this; this was so much different than any kidnapping he'd ever encountered, for many reasons. He counted them down in his head, having nothing else to think of.

_'One: the magic. Two: Frank's not here to comfort me. Three: Voldemort's more evil than any other villain we've encountered. Four: I'm the only one he wants to torture, because he blames me for—for…her death. Five: I know without a doubt that unless Frank gets here soon, I'm going to die.'_

Joe squeezed his eyes shut. This wasn't working. It was making things work. He couldn't dwell on it anymore, however, because at that moment Lucius and Voldemort entered the room.

"I'm back," Voldemort hissed, striding over to Joe as the door disappeared.

Joe tried to hide his fears, but Voldemort must have sensed them. His snake-like nostrils dilating in excitement, he leaned down and grabbed Joe by his collar and pulled him into a sitting position. The boy winced as his shoulder wracked with pain again. Voldemort laughed in his ear. "Scared?"

"No," Joe said defiantly. Then, "Look, I'm sorry about your daughter. I…I loved her. Please…please let me go."

"Ah…pleading…"

"NO! I'm more worried for my brother than I am myself. Just let me go for him! He'll never forgive himself if you don't. I know you're going to kill me," he added softly. "I can tell. But are you really going to kill me without saying good-bye to him?"

"Yes," said Voldemort, no sign of pity in his red eyes. "And for your impertinence, you shall die all the more painful." He raised his wand and Joe knew it…it was the end. He closed his eyes and waited for death to come.

* * *

"The first thing we need to do is figure out where Voldemort is keeping him," Frank said matter-of-factly.

"Will you please stop saying that name?" Ron pleaded.

Harry, Hermione, and Frank all turned to him at the same time and said in unison, "Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself."

Ron's ears grew as red as his face but he said nothing more.

"Do you have any idea where you were?" Fenton inquired. "Did it seem to be above ground? Underground?"

"Underground?" Frank frowned. "I don't know. I hadn't even thought about that. It makes sense though."

Harry's eyes lit up and he said, "After the third task in the Triwizard Tournament, Voldemort had the portkey transport me to a graveyard. Do you think he could be there?"

"I don't believe so," Dumbledore said. "When you were taken, he thought that you wouldn't live. But when you escaped, he knew that you would tell me where you had been, even if you couldn't say the exact location."

Hermione nodded. "It makes sense."

"But maybe," said Laura, "he's following the same pattern. Maybe they are in a graveyard somewhere."

"But it was inside," Frank argued.

"It could be a crypt—like a large, cave," Hermione said. "Some graveyards have them."

"I haven't seen any in Bayport," Laura retorted.

"It wouldn't have to be in Bayport, Mom," Frank said heavily. "Voldemort basically has the run of the world. He could be anywhere."

"And that just makes our task a million times easier," Ron said sarcastically.

"I think the best thing to do," Dumbledore said, ignoring Ron's comment, "is to see exactly what Frank saw."

"How do we do that?" Frank wondered aloud, feeling that if they could do that, it would prove very useful, but he dreaded seeing the whole ordeal again.

"Pensieve," Dumbledore answered. "I can conjure one here. It is where you draw out your memories. That way, we can all go into the memory and see what happened, and can look for any clue as to where your brother is."

Harry, who recalled his first encounter with a pensieve in his fourth year, nodded vigorously.

Frank was still not clear on the concept, but he readily agreed. Anything to find Joe. He watched in interest as Dumbledore conjured a large cauldron out of thin air. Then he pulled out his wand and pointed his wand at Frank's head. "I want you to concentrate solely on your memories from when you got attacked to what happened with Joe." Frank nodded, and focused all his energy on those painful recollections. Dumbledore slowly removed his wand and pulled what looked like a long, silver string away from the youth's head. He then put it in the cauldron. Frank watched in amazement as it swirled around, then came to rest on a tiny image of he and Joe running toward the alley. "Are you ready?" Dumbledore asked. Everyone nodded, and the wizard instructed everyone to lean forward into the cauldron.

Laura, Fenton, Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore, and Frank all did so and suddenly felt the sensation of falling. They landed as phantoms in the alley just as the Death Eaters emerged from the shadows. They were in the memory.


	11. Chapter 11

Joe's head pounded as he waited for death to take him. When nothing happened, however, he opened his eyes to see with astonishment that not only was he still alive, but his arms were no longer tied. Voldemort was still standing above him, wand pointed at his heart. Slowly, keeping his eyes on the Dark Lord before him, Joe flexed his arms, groaning as his cramped muscles protested. Lucius then bent down beside him and handed the youth a piece of parchment and a large quill. "Write exactly what we tell you," he hissed. Voldemort's wand was still pointed directly at his heart. Joe took the quill, and glaring at the two wizards, prepared to write. "Oh," he added, "make sure you say it as you write it." Joe didn't understand the reason behind this, but did not argue, due to the wand pointed at him.

"Say this," said Voldemort. "'Hi. Mom, Dad, and Frank. I am alive right now, but that can be changed in a heartbeat.'" Joe gritted his teeth and he wrote the words, then, as the wand was pressed painfully into his back, repeated them. His voice was hoarse and strained, having not had anything to drink in over twenty-four hours. Voldemort continued, "'I have been through more torture today. I am getting closer to death every day. My fate is in your hands. Voldemort can kill painfully—or with no pain at all. It is your choice which. If you refuse to join, I will die a slow and painful death, and will blame you for it. If you do, Voldemort ensures my quick and painless death. It's your choice.'" With a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, Joe repeated and wrote the message. Voldemort then ordered him to say goodbye to his family—no matter what their final decision was, he would never see them again. His voice shaking with emotion, Joe added, "I love you guys. Frank, I'm sorry. Please find me." Voldemort snatched the letter away before he could say any more.

He began writing something and muttered, "Fenton—his time is running out. He shall be dead in three days. The sooner you join, the sooner he is put out of his misery." Then he pulled out his wand, pointed it at the parchment, and muttered a spell. Then he put it in a bright red envelope and sealed it with wax. "A howler," he said shortly, then conjured and owl out of thin air and went to the door that had appeared once more. He told the creature to go to the Hardy house, in Bayport, then came back to Joe.

"Really, there is no point in keeping you tied up all day. There is no possible way for you to escape," he said thoughtfully, and Joe felt a ray of hope shoot through his body. Even if he couldn't escape, at least could stretch his legs and walk around. "But," Voldemort went on, "the whole point of your imprisonment is discomfort, torture, and in three days' time, death. Who would I be to go against it?"

"Master," said Lucius hesitantly, "if I may make a suggestion." Voldemort fixed his gleaming eyes upon his servant, and Lucius continued. "What if we give him a wand? Just to see if he has any powers?" Joe felt a small jolt of excitement. Maybe if he did get a wand, maybe if he did have powers…maybe he could get out of there. No, he decided, Voldemort was much more powerful than he could dream to start out to be…besides, he probably wouldn't even have powers. But Lucius wasn't finished. "If he does, don't you believe his death will be even more traumatic for his family, if they learned their son had powers, and if they hadn't sheltered him, he could have possibly saved himself?"

"Lucius," said Voldemort sternly, "just because I trust you, do you think I tell you everything? For your information, that was part of the plan. However, it will not go into effect until his death draws near—he will die trying to learn if he has powers…how to use a wand…trying to protect himself…so at least he will not die completely helpless."

Lucius bowed slightly and said, "Of course you are right, Milord."

Although feeling sick, Joe set himself to quietly untying the ropes around his legs while his captors discussed his death. He had just stood shakily up and was making his way slowly, silently, across the room to see if maybe the door would show up for him, when Voldemort and Lucius noticed that he had escaped and immediately whipped around. They saw their captive making a break for it. Voldemort pointed his wand at the youth, and yelled, "Crucio!" Joe dodged it, now trying to escape from further pain, not even thinking of getting away from the prison. But his attempts were, of course, futile; Voldemort was able to determine his next move, and less than ten seconds later, Joe was back in his agonizing nightmare. 'Please,' Joe thought wildly as his screams tore from his parched lips. 'Please, just let me die!'

Voldemort either interpreted the screams or could read his mind, for Joe could swear that over his cries of anguish, the wizard said, "Do not worry, my dear Joseph, the time will come sooner than you think."

* * *

Dumbledore, Frank, Fenton, Laura, Harry, Hermione, and Ron watched as the boys ran toward the scream. "That's Joe?" Hermione whispered to Frank, seeing his wistful gaze when he saw his brother. The youth didn't trust himself to speak, so he merely nodded.

"Shhh," Dumbledore warned, and everyone fell silent. A sob escaped from Laura's lips as she saw her boys attacked—then the image faded out, for that was all Frank remembered from that particular time. Next, the group saw Frank waking up in the unknown prison. As his eyes fell on Joe, lying bound and unconscious, the real Frank rushed forward and fell to his knees, forgetting momentarily that he was in a memory. But seeing himself lying bound and speaking angrily to Lucius just a few feet away, he remembered. Feeling a soft hand on his shoulder, he stood and spun around, seeing his father.

"Son," Fenton said, "you have been through this. There is no reason for you to have to relive it." He held up his hand as Frank began to protest. "No, I'm not asking you to leave. Just, while we watch—for we need to see what happened— you look around for any clue that might indicate where you were."

Frank nodded, and Fenton, with sorrowful eyes, turned to watch Frank and Joe's ordeal with the rest of the group.

Frank strode away from the sound of his voice pleading with Voldemort to spare his brother, trying to forget that he was inside the horrible memory; he only concentrated on finding a clue as to where his brother was being kept.

As the scene went on around him, he walked to where the door would have been—and saw something strange. 'Why is there water on the floor?' he wondered. 'Could Joe be in a rainy place? Could the water have come from their shoes or clothes? Could he be…nah, he couldn't…but with these guys, anything is possible. Is he underwater?' As these thoughts swirled through his mind, he tried to block out his brother's screams, Voldemort's evil laugh, his mother's cries, and his own pleas, and kept up his search.

He saw something set into one of the walls, and was leaning to see it better when he heard a shrill shriek from his mother. He spun around and nearly retched when he saw himself stab his brother. He turned away, swallowing back bile. He had barely gotten a glimpse at the symbol encrusted in the muddy wall when everything faded away and he, along with his family and newly found friends, were hurled out of the pensieve.

Frank stood quietly as they landed in the present time, in his house. His eyes moved from Dumbledore's troubled face, to Harry's sad and distracted one, to Hermione's horrified gaze, then settled on Ron's appalled pale face, then moved on to his father's angry face and his mother's distraught one.

"So now you know what happened," he said grimly, finally breaking the silence.

"It was just as bad as I had feared," Fenton said dully, and Dumbledore nodded distractedly.

A moment later, his eyes landed on Frank and he said, "What did you find, Frank?"

"You didn't recognize the place?"

Dumbledore's lips twitched slightly as he answered, "I wasn't the one who was supposed to be taking in the scenery. I was intent on watching what happened between you, Joe, and Voldemort." Ron shuddered, this time, Frank, Laura, Harry, and Hermione with him. "It could be any underground place, I am sure. But what did you find?"

Frank related the discovery of the water to the rest, and Fenton frowned. "Could they be underwater, Dumbledore?"

"That's what I thought!" Frank said excitedly. "But where?" 'There's even more water on the earth than land,' he realized. 'It will be much more strenuous of a search now…but maybe not.'

He quickly added aloud, "I also saw something encrusted in the wall. I couldn't tell for sure, but it looked like an 'A'. It seemed to have some sort of skeleton hand caressing the letter."

"A…A…A…" Harry muttered thoughtfully.

Hermione's eyes lit up. "Professor, what if he's at—"

"Azkaban!" Dumbledore finished for her.

"Azkaban?" said Fenton in disbelief.

"Azkaban?" Frank echoed, confused.

"The wizard prison," Fenton explained hurriedly to his son.

"But wouldn't there be dementors?" Ron asked doubtfully.

Harry jumped in as a sudden thought took him. "They may not be  _in_  Azkaban…but  _under_  it."

"It makes sense," Laura put in.

"Dad, is it possible to get under there?"

Fenton rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I'm not sure. For Voldemort, who's got the dementors—prison guards, horrible creatures, mind you—on his side, I'm sure anything is possible. Albus…do you know if there is a chamber under the island?"

"An island?" Frank exclaimed, elated. "That must mean we're on the right track to finding Joe!"

"Exactly," Fenton replied.

Dumbledore cut in. "Yes, there is a chamber under the prison. It was for the victims of the kiss to await their sentence, before the dementors began administering it 'on location', if you will."

Everyone except Frank shuddered. "The kiss?"

"That's where the dementors suck out your soul," Ron explained.

Frank paled. "You don't think they'll do that to Joe, do you?"

"We do not know," Dumbledore murmured, placing a comforting hand on the youth's shoulder. "We do not even know how long he has left…"

At that moment, a large owl banged defiantly against the window. Frank jumped. "An owl?" he said as the bird was quickly brought in. But nobody was listening. All were staring at the bright red envelope the winged creature had just given to them.

"A howler," Laura breathed. "From…?"

"Him, no doubt," Fenton finished.

"A what?"

Frank found out "what" as soon as Dumbledore opened the letter. Instead of a paper inside, Joe's voice echoed from inside the envelope. Frank jumped, and the entire party paled at what they heard.

"Hi. Mom, Dad, and Frank," came the boy's weak and strained voice from the envelope. "I am alive right now, but that can be changed in a heartbeat. I have been through more torture today. I am getting closer to death every day. My fate is in your hands. Voldemort can kill painfully—or with no pain at all. It is your choice which. If you refuse to join, I will die a slow and painful death, and will blame you for it. If you do, Voldemort ensures my quick and painless death. It's your choice." Joe spoke these words with absolutely no emotion. Then, his voice changed. Sounding desperate, as if he were about to cry, he said, "I love you guys. Frank, I'm sorry. Please find me."

Then Voldemort's voice hissed from the envelope, causing an involuntary shudder to ripple through all the teenagers. "Fenton—his time is running out. He shall be dead in three days. The sooner you join, the sooner he is put out of his misery." Then the envelope began to smoke and burned into ashes.

Finally, Frank broke the silence. "So, he's going to die whether or not you join," he confirmed in a dull voice.

"No, he's not going to die!" Hermione spoke up and laid a hand on Frank's shoulder. Frank looked at her, eyes filling with tears. She looked into the distraught face and said, "We're going to Azkaban right now, aren't we?" She failed to notice the envious look Ron was shooting at her and Frank, as did the rest of the group.

"Of course," Dumbledore said. "But not unlike Hogwarts, you cannot apperate or disapperate on grounds of the prison. We shall apperate on the coast, then take a boat to the island." As they prepared to depart, a small rat scurried out of the room and down the steps. His name was Peter Pettigrew, and he had to get to his master…and to tell him all he had heard.


	12. Chapter 12

Voldemort stared at the trembling youth before him in disgust. He pulled out his wand and, as a spell escaped his lips, ropes sprang out of the air and wound themselves tightly around the youth once more. Joe didn't protest; he was too weak and in too much pain to care right now. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the searing pain coursing throughout his body.

"He is weakening, Milord," Lucius observed.

"Yes," Voldemort hissed. "Soon he will be dead."

Joe tried not to think about the voices around him. He was suffering enough as it was; he didn't think he could handle hearing about his death again.

Voldemort was about to say something else when a rat ran into the room. It scurried over Joe's legs and the boy jumped slightly and opened his eyes. Then he gasped in surprise as the rat shifted into a human (a very ugly human, but a human all the same) right in front of his eyes. He then realized that this must be Peter something-or-other—he was in too much pain to try and remember right now—the one that Lucius had said was a rat when he spied on the Hardys and Dumbledore.

Taking short, shallow breaths, keeping his eyes to the ground, the man said, "So…this is him?"

Voldemort looked at him coldly. "Do you have news?" he said, not answering the question.

Joe noted that Peter looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but with his master right now; he kept shifting uncomfortably, kept his beady eyes focused on his worn and tatty shoes, and kept as far away from Voldemort as possible.

"Yes," he muttered in answer to Voldemort's inquiry.

"Well?" Lucius said impatiently.

Peter glanced at Joe, and then trained his eyes downward, and said in a hurried voice, "Somehow Frank Hardy got his memory back. Dumbledore, Harry Potter, and his two friends are there too. So they used a peinsive and went into the memory. They found the crest of Azkaban and know where you're at. They're going to find you—and Joe. They're apparating to the coast, then taking magically enforced boats to Azkaban. They'll be here within fifteen minutes."

Joe felt a ray of hope. Frank knew where he was at! But his hopes were soon crushed as Lucius asked, "Are we to move him, Milord? Surely we cannot stay here and let them find us."

"On the contrary," Voldemort said, red eyes gleaming maliciously, "don't you think it would make things much more…touching…if Fenton got to see his own son die?"

* * *

The group was just about to disapperate—Frank wasn't sure how it worked, but was told everything would be alright if he, Ron, Hermione, and Harry were touching one of the adults; they would do the actual "disapperating"—when they heard a knock at the door. "It's me!" Callie Shaw's voice rang out.

Frank looked at his parents and Dumbledore imploringly. "Can I please talk to her for a minute? I won't tell her anything about…you know…just that Joe's in danger.

"You must make it very clear that she shall not be able to accompany you," Dumbledore warned, "but I suppose you must talk to her. Tell her to go and not worry. We cannot disapperate with a muggle so close—it could be dangerous."

Fenton looked sharply at his son. "Two minutes," he said, then stood back with the others while Frank opened the door. The group was surprised when not only Callie, but Vanessa, Joe's girlfriend, Chet Morton (Frank's heart went out to the boy who had lost his sister so suddenly, but did not know even half of the real story), Tony Prito, and Biff Hooper filed in the door. All had solemn faces.

"Frank, we know about Joe," Vanessa said, voice wavering.

"Wha—how?" Frank stuttered.

Before Frank could say anything more, Tony added, "And your dad. And this whole 'magic' deal. I admit, it is pretty freaky, but, seeing as we just found out a few hours ago…that's understandable."

Dumbledore looked at the teens sharply. "How is it you came to know this?"

"It's a long story," Chet said heavily.

"Callie and I were worried about you," Vanessa began. "You had told us about all those warning that he—"she nodded at Dumbledore, "—gave you. So we followed you home from school. When you guys jumped out of your car after the scream, we feared for the worst!"

Callie took up the story. "We jumped out of our car and followed you guys. We got there just in time to see those guys—those wizards—disappear with you guys."

"Of course that freaked us out, and we were extremely worried," Vanessa added. "We couldn't see how any of that was possible."

"So the first thing we did was tell your parents—that's how they knew you guys were missing. When we told them how you had just disappeared into thin air, they basically had panic attacks. But then they said that we must be imagining things and that they would start looking for the boys immediately. When they refused to call the police, 'Nessa and I knew something wasn't right. So we got the guys together and did a little sleuthing ourselves."

Frank looked at her in amazement. "How? What?"

"Yes," Fenton said, staring at the group in disbelief. "How?"

"Well…" said Biff.

"…it was kind of an accident we found out," finished Tony.

"See, we mentioned what had happened to Mom," Chet said.

Frank and the others sucked in their breath. "She told you…didn't she?"

Chet nodded, not trusting himself to speak. "Iola's real mother had told her everything…about the wizarding world…the whole deal. That scum is blaming Joe for my sister's death. And he did it. Frank, I'm not just going to let you guys go alone! I…want to help."

Frank was about to protest when, to his amazement, Dumbledore nodded. "You, and no one else," he said.

"But—" Callie began to protest.

"No, Chet needs to go. It was his sister who was killed, and he deserves a chance to look into the face of her murderer. Am I right, Chet?"

Tears now spilling down his round cheeks, Chet nodded silently.

"Fine," Vanessa said, "I trust you guys know what you're doing. I'm Vanessa, by the way," she said, addressing Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Dumbledore. "Joe's girlfriend."

Hermione stepped forward and put a hand on the trembling girl's shoulder. "It'll be okay. I'm Hermione Granger. This is Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter."

"I'm Chet," Chet said, wiping his eyes. "And this is Biff and Tony."

"And I'm Callie," the girl said. "I'm Frank's girlfriend."

"Oh." Everyone looked at Hermione as she said this. She then blushed crimson and said, "Let's go find Joe!"

But Frank could never forget how disappointed she sounded when she found out that he wasn't single. And neither could Ron.

"Joe," said Voldemort, "did you hear? Your family is going to witness your death. Then, I shall kill Harry Potter and those other fools and be done. My, this is working out much better than I planned."

Joe glared at him.

"Well, my dear Joseph," the villain said, "I suppose we must get ready for our guests. But first—I want to introduce you to two of my friends."

He made a motion with his hand and the door appeared. It swung open, and Joe was instantly cold—inside and out. In stepped two of the most hideous creatures he'd ever seen. They were twelve feet tall, cloaked, and had bony, scabby, dead hands. They had no eyes, just skin stretched over the sockets. The mouth was nothing but a gaping hole. Joe was overcome with coldness. All his worst memories came flooding back to him. He was back, back in Iola's death. He heard the explosion. He saw the damage. He could hear the screams, the sounds…

"Like them?" he could faintly hear Voldemort say above the ruckus in his own mind. "Dementors. Their sole purpose is to suck the happiness out of any place…the life…the love…the hope…they also have the power to suck out your soul…but they won't be doing that.  _I_ am to be the one to kill you…in front of all your loved ones."

But Joe didn't hear any of the speech. He had already slipped into unconsciousness once more.

"There it is!" Fenton yelled over the rumble of the waves. "Azkaban!"

The others looked at the prison apprehensively. It was the most foreboding place they had ever seen.

They finally landed on the shore. "This way," said Dumbledore. He led them what looked like a solid stone wall. He then said a spell and a door appeared.

"This is it," Frank said.

"This is it," Harry agreed.

"Let's go," Fenton urged.

"Yes, let's," Laura consented.

"Fenton!" Voldemort's voice echoed through the chamber as the group stepped inside. Chet's face grew white. Hermione and Ron looked as if they were going to pass out. Harry's stomach felt like it was twisting into knots.

"You-know-who!" Ron breathed.

Fenton paled but stepped forward with Dumbledore. Laura, face tear-streaked, stayed with the teens.

"Where is my son?" Fenton demanded.

"Hello, my old friend," Lucius snarled. He glanced at the small group of teenagers. "So nice of you to join our little party."

He motioned with his finger and out of the shadows came two Dementors—holding an Joe, bound…and unconscious.

"Oh my…" Laura cried softly. "Joe!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione tensed. Harry felt weak…the dementors affected him worse than most people, because of his horrible past…but he focused strongly on the happiest memory of his life… 'I can do this,' he told himself as he reached for his wand.

"Fenton, you betrayed me so long ago. It still hurts." Voldemort smirked, then said, "No, I do not feel pain. I feel wrath. Wrath at you for betraying me. Wrath at your son for murdering my daughter." Chet whimpered. "And wrath at Harry Potter for evading me all these years." He paused, eyes gleaming. "Finally, everything will go right. Joe will die. Harry will die. And you, dear friend, will join me once more…or die."

Dumbledore's ancient face was a mirror of hatred as he advanced on Voldemort. "Tom…" he said, "let the boy go."

"NO!" Voldemort screamed. "Fenton! Join me and let's kill Harry Potter together and your son won't suffer any longer!"

"Please, don't kill him," Fenton begged.

"He didn't kill anyone!" Frank added, coming up beside his father.

"Especially my sister!" Chet yelled, his strong voice betraying the bubbling emotions he felt inside.

"Let him go!" Laura cried.

"Shut up!" Lucius hissed.

"Fenton, choose now!"

"Fenton, don't say anything," Dumbledore ordered.

"But he'll kill Joe if I won't."

"He'll kill him anyway," Dumbledore reminded him. "Listen, Fenton, right now, he's got the upper hand—he has Joe. And you aren't going to become a murderer to save your son."

"You're right. I'll save Joe, or die trying."

"Fine," Voldemort said. "Have it your way." He went to the dementors and took out his wand. He then shook Joe and the boy stirred. He gasped when his eyes fell on his family.

"Dad?" he mumbled. "Mom?"

"Avada—" Voldemort began, but Dumbledore cast a spell at that point and the wand flew out of Voldemort's hand. He chuckled as he bent down to get it. "I believe you have made your point," he said. "You don't want him to die. And I don't believe he will…" He looked at the dementors and said, "The kiss."

"NO!" Frank screamed.

Before anyone could do anything, the creatures began to lift Joe closer to their shapeless mouths and took in a deep rattling breath…

"Please no," Joe begged, but then everything went black.

The group watched, horrified, as the helpless youth was raised up, closer and closer to his doom…


	13. Chapter 13

"NO!" Frank screamed. He lunged toward the dementors and lashed out, just as Harry pulled out his wand, and, concentrating deeply, yelled, " _Expecto Potranum!_ " The exact moment Frank tackled the dementors, resulting in a cold, deadly sensation rippling throughout his body, a giant silver stag erupted from the tip of Harry's wand. The dementors backed off, and dropping Joe heavily on the ground, shied away from the stag and disappeared into the shadows. The Patronus then disappeared.

"Idiot boys!" Voldemort snapped.

Laura wanted desperately to get to her son lying unmoving and bound on the floor, but Fenton wouldn't let her. "No, Laura," he said, putting his arm around her. "It's too dangerous. We'll get Joe."

Dumbledore walked menacingly toward Voldemort. "Tom," he said. "Let the boy go. He has done nothing."

As Joe started to stir, Voldemort walked calmly over to him and yanked him up. Joe, who had been sliding in and out of consciousness for quite some time, looked around, dazed. "Fine," Voldemort hissed as Joe made a clumsy attempt to break free from the villain holding him. "I did promise young Joseph here a chance to fight…to see if he really has powers." He looked at Joe in mock sympathy. "However," he said, an evil smile forming at the corners of his mouth, "he seems to be a bit weak for that, don't you think, Fenton?"

The boy's father glared at the captor. "Voldemort," he said. "Leave my son out of this."

Harry couldn't stand it any longer. He strode forward defiantly, fear and determination coursing through his entire being. "Yeah," he agreed. "Leave Joe out of this. This isn't his battle. It's not Fenton's battle. It's not even Professor Dumbledore's battle. This is our battle. The prophecy reads that either I shall kill you or you me. Not that you and Fenton will kill me together."

"Shut up, you brat!" Voldemort said, dropping Joe and pulling out his wand, advancing on Harry like a cat would a mouse.

"Fenton, do something!" Laura pleaded, looking at Harry and Voldemort, facing one another.

"He can do nothing, Laura," Dumbledore said quietly. "And neither can I. Harry is right. His wisdom tonight is far beyond his years. It is his battle."

"But he can't—" Laura began, disbelieving.

"He can try," Dumbledore said.

"Laura, if things get too bad, we'll jump in. We'll do anything to protect Harry. But right now, this is his time to shine. His battle."

Harry glared at Voldemort. "So. He killed your daughter. What a way to kill two kids with one wand, right? Kidnap him, then use him as a 'ransom' against his father to kill me. You are more a coward than I'd ever thought."

"Coward?" Voldemort spat.

"Coward?" Fenton groaned. "The boy is foolish. Come, Albus, before he does something worse."

"No," Dumbledore said simply. "The battle is his, and he shall fight it the way he feels fit."

"But we've gotta do something to help him!" Frank said. Hermione, Ron, and Chet agreed.

"I think I know how!" Hermione said. She motioned the others closer to her. The adults were caught up in their own conversations and didn't notice, although Frank was almost positive he saw Dumbledore glance in their direction and then look away quickly. But he couldn't be sure.

"How?" Frank said.

"Whatever we can do to help Harry and Joe, I'm in!" Chet declared.

"Wonderful! Now…we all know that Harry lived because of his mother's love. What if…what if we all concentrate on love…not just the sentiment or the feeling—but the very being of love. What if it makes Voldemort more vulnerable? Or Harry stronger? Either way, it's worth a shot."

Frank was doubtful, but would try anything to save his brother and Harry. "I'm in."

"I guess so," Ron said, glancing at Hermione.

"I'm so in," Chet agreed. They all stepped forward. Laura lunged forward to stop them, but was held back by Dumbledore.

"Let them go," he said simply.

The four friends gathered around Harry, who was holding his own wand in front of him. His hand was shaking in fear, and Voldemort was saying, "Five years you've escaped me, Potter. And if Fenton isn't going to help…I shall dispose of you myself, then kill all these fools!"

Harry saw his friends and hissed, "What're you doing?"

"Helping," Frank said simply. Frank thought of his parents, his girlfriend, and Joe. He thought of the love he had for them and how he would give his life in a heartbeat if it would save any of them. Chet thought of his family and friends…and Iola. He concentrated fully on her, how much he loved her, how much he missed her. Hermione thought of her parents, loved ones, and, somehow, Ron kept slipping into her mind, although, at the time being, she couldn't fathom why. Ron thought of his parents and brothers and sister, of his friends…and Hermione.

"And now, Harry Potter, you shall die!" Voldemort said, and aimed his wand at Harry's heart. Harry, before Voldemort could say anything, roared, "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

With a flash of green light and a surge of energy and emotion passing through Harry's body, Voldemort yelled in surprise, then crumpled. All stared in disbelief as Harry fell to his knees in shock, disbelief, and relief. Suddenly all was chaos: Voldemort's allies making a break for it, all the teens screaming and jumping and hugging him, the adults doing the same, tears streaming down their faces. "You're a hero, Harry, a hero!" Hermione kept saying as she threw her arms around him.

Harry, still numb with disbelief, said, "No, we all are. Is he…really gone?"

A strangled cheer came from the floor and Frank felt sick. In all the excitement, he had nearly forgotten about Joe!

Instantly the boy was surrounded by the entire group. "Joe!" Frank said, then, remembering their last encounter, looked at his brother's wounded shoulder and whispered, "I'm so sorry, Joe. I wasn't in control of my body…I couldn't help it."

As the dazed boy was freed, Joe said weakly, "You must be Harry Potter."

"And you the famous Joe Hardy," Harry said, grinning. "Nice to finally meet you. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were avoiding me."

"Sorry," Joe feebly quipped back, "I was unavoidably detained.

"Son," Fenton said when Joe was free, pulling him into the biggest hug the boy had ever encountered in his life, "I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

"Sore. Weak. Hungry. Thirsty. Tired. Other than that, I'm perfectly fine."


	14. Epilogue

Joe was cared for by a skilled wizard doctor, and was soon on the road to recovery. His shoulder was healed instantly, but the doctor claimed it could be a while before he regained his strength and got over the trauma he'd been through (and suggested lots of chocolate).

Harry became even more of a hero than he'd ever been. People everywhere were chanting his name, singing his praises. He had killed Voldemort. But, as usual, none of it went to the boy's head, and he wanted nothing more than to stay away from the crowds and pressure, and spend time with his friends.

Hermione admitted that she had had feelings for Frank when they had first met, but they had quickly passed. Ron admitted his jealously, and Hermione claimed she liked him as well. When they were alone, the two (finally!) had their first kiss.

Everyone was happy again, happier than they had ever been before. An unbreakable bond of friendship was formed between Harry, Ron, Hermione, Frank, Joe, and the gang.

As for the Hardys, they found that they did have powers—but decided to follow in their father's footsteps once more. After all, they'd been brought up using their brains—why abandon them for an easy way out?—Frank's words exactly.

However, in the dead of night, you might hear strange sounds from Joe Hardy's room and realize that he's not quite ready to give up this cool new gift.

Logic meets the supernatural, and they become intertwined.

But hey, just another day in the lives of Harry and the Hardys.

**THE END**


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